


two flames in one fire

by martainez



Series: prompts [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012, M/M, dw they'll be ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martainez/pseuds/martainez
Summary: prompt: why do you put up with me?





	two flames in one fire

It’s been cloudy for a while. The sky heavy with emotions, the people equally so. The cashiers at the store not as perky as usual, and Phil could have sworn he hasn’t seen a dog actually waging their tail in weeks. The whole world seems to have been submerged in a thick fog; a blockade against sunlight and the joy of life.

The fog has killed all his houseplants, as well. The apartment, once filled with chlorophyll and serotonin, now a home of drooping leaves and a constant darkness. Not a literal one - the lights work fine, they still have enough money to pay the electrical bill - but a worse. The darkness is mental, an agonizing fear of being abandoned, blinding him to what's real and what’s imaginary. 

He’s walking on eggshells every day, scared of _fucking it up_ , and being the straw that brakes the camel's back. But he can never walk quiet enough, every time he leaves his bedroom everything seems too loud. Echoes from slammed doors are etched into the walls, the floor carrying memories from stomped feet and heated arguments. 

He always hums to himself as he walks the corridor to the kitchen, trying to deafen the voices in his head. Sometimes it works, sometimes it makes things worse. Sometimes the nonspecific voices are replaced by one very special. Dan’s. Sometimes _it_ repeats specific harsh comments, sometimes it whispers sweet compliments. A reminder of a time lost somewhere back in Manchester. Those are the ones Phil can’t handle, when it happens he puts a finger in both ears and shuts his eyes. Trying to reset his mind. Or, going as far as to reset it all.  


It hasn’t worked yet.   
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Phil’s sitting at his desk, legs crossed underneath it, and feet left with the socks hanging loosely off the toes. He’s tapping his finger repeatedly against the wooden worktop, no specific melody in mind, but the rhythm’s fairly similar to something that would make it into a _Queen_ album. 

He uses a red sharpie to cross over today's date on a pocket calendar. It’s the thirty-fifth red cross in a row.   
  
He sighs as he puts the cap on and lets the tapping finger travel over the desktop. He traces the freshly-done red lines, the edges get smudged out a little and he immediately stops. When he turns his hand around and lifts his finger closer to his eye, he sees the red stains it left. The sight makes his stomach turn.

The emotions get to him rather quickly. He reaches for the sharpie and throws it at the floor. It bounces once before it settles, just by the leg of the bed. 

His sudden outbreak startles him. He stars at the innocence object on his floor and feels the sudden urge to apologize. It’s not its fault. It’s not anybody's fault. For God's sake, Phil’s not even sure what exactly there’s to be faulty about. 

But God, does he wish he knew. 

He wishes he could snap with his finger and everything would go back to how it was two years ago. Back when he didn’t have to remind himself to feel hopeful, back when it came naturally. Back when the future was welcomed with opened arms. 

He sighs to himself as he stands up, still keeping his eyes fixed on the marker. He folds his arms and cocks his head slightly. 

”I’m sorry,” he whispers as he lets his arms fall again. The words come out surprisingly easy for something he’s wanted, but failed, to say for weeks. He nods to himself as he turns his back and begins to walk out of the room.   
  
He needs a distraction, something to keep him from thinking about that one person - _and their one problem_ \- that every single thing in this entire universe seems to remind him about. 

He walks to the kitchen, to drown his feelings in sugary cereal has become the norm in his life. He is careful to choose the right box in their cabinet, careful to avoid the one with abig, invisible _DAN’S_ written all over it. 

He takes out a bowl from the dishwasher, it’s scalding hot from the newly finished washing program, but he sort of likes the red marks it leaves on his hand. It works as a reminder that there are other emotions than sadness and heartache to feel.

The cereal goes in first, then the milk - of course. He might be confused on many levels, but he’s not crazy. 

With the bowl in his left hand and a spoon, that he fishes up from the cutlery drawer, in his right, he heads for the lounge. Nowadays, he usually eats in his room, but the need for distraction is stronger than the sense of awkwardness that would occur if _someone_ decided to come out of their room. 

  
* * * 

  
He never bothered to put any specific show on, instead lets the TV decide on what to watch. He’s not entirely sure what the program is about, but a young woman is currently searching for her mother in a small village in India, and it’s entertaining enough. He stopped being fuzzy about things once he realized everything he wanted might not want him back.  
  
Oh great, now he’s thinking about _it_ again.  
  
Phil’s full-on spiralling, his mind somewhere way out of this world, when a small voice interrupts the woman on the show’s.

”Can I join?” Phil first thinks he’s imagined it, but then he looks to his right, and indeed, there he is. Dan.   
  
He’s looking down at his feet, lip caught between his teeth. He looks so young, with messy curls adoring his head, and a t-shirt two sized too big hanging loosely of his shoulders. His entire look screams of innocence, and maybe Phil’s willing to let it fool him.  


Phil’s reminded that he’s yet to answer by Dan’s soft kick to the floor.  
  
”Ehm, yeah. ’Course,” he says, startled once again.

Dan doesn't move fast, he drags his long legs across the floor slowly and sits down. There’s a space between them, but it’s small, about three-quarters of a foot. Phil suddenly feels nervous, like he's supposed to do something. Addressing the elephant in the room would be a great start. Because, man is that elephant huge. 

He’s not sure what to say, or what to do. The only thing he’s sure about is the fact that Dan hasn’t shown any affection in thirty-five days. And he’s started to question the nature of their relationship. He dosesn’t want it to be over, he seriously doesn’t. He just wants things to get better, he wants to claim to the hope that they’re endgame. But it’s hard, especially since Dan stopped talking. He began isolating himself, not only from the outside world, but from Phil. The only person he always used to talk to. 

And now he’s all of the sudden ready to talk? He’s come out of his cave, apparently out of nowhere, or Phil’s missed all the signs, and what now? Do they talk? Make up? Make o-  
  
”Why do you put up with me?” Dan’s voice sounds so scared, like he’s preparing for something hurtful. Like a breakup.  
  
”What?” Phil says, it’s the first word that comes out of his mouth. He turns to look at Dan, but Dan’s not looking back at him, but instead at his own hands.

”Why haven’t you left me yet? I’m an asshole.” Dan takes a deep breath and turns his head towards Phil. Their eyes locked at each other. ”A cold, bitchy, asshole.” 

”No,” Phil says before he himself’s even realized he’s said it. ”You’re fire, Dan. You’re fire, and I’ve been cold my entire life. That’s why I put up with you, ’cause you’re _it_ Dan _. It.”_  
  
The silence that follows is deafening. Dan’s left, speechless with his mouth slightly ajar, and Phil with his heart beating so fast it might escape his chest. 

The seconds feel like hours, and then; a laugh. It’s the most beautiful thing Phil’s heard in his entire life. Dan’s laughing, and it’s not the accusation type, but the joyful one.   
  
”You did not come up with that yourself, did you?” he laughs. His eyes are glistening, enough so that it lights the spark in Phil’s chest. He begins to chuckle as well.  
  
”Might have read it online somewhere,” he admits. A sudden braveness makes him shuffle closer to Dan, their legs now touching.

”'Course you did.”  
  
”Still true though,” Phil’s says, his fingers are twitching, eager to touch the person that’s been forbidden for too long. But he’s not sure if that’s okay yet, or if it’ll push Dan even further away.  
  
He doesn’t have to wait long to figure out, because Dan does the unthinkable. He shuffles impossibly closer and lays his head down to rest on Phil's shoulder.

Their eyes meet in a second of silence. The braveness in Phil is back and he takes advantage of the situation and lets himself inarm Dan. Dan lets his eyes fall and nuzzles in closer, he takes a deep breath.   
  
”I’m sorry,” Phil feels rather than hear Dan say. Even though the words might be sad it still manages to spread a smile on his face.

”I know.”   
  
The weather forecast might not agree, but Phil’s convinced the sky’s starting to clear up.  


**Author's Note:**

> tell me what to write, please!


End file.
